Bed Scenes
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: Somehow, they fit together. - Vanessa/Nina


**Author's Notes:** Dialogue? What is dialogue? Oh, you mean the talking thing? PFFT. Who needs that? Also, I can't believe I actually wrote this. I'm reeling a bit. Fandom needs more girlslash. There are not enough boobies in this fandom. This is my contribution. Originally a gift for the magnificent Aldiara, over on InsaneJournal.

* * *

It's nearing three in the morning when Nina feels the bed dip beside her. Although she isn't sure why, she keeps her eyes closed, listening carefully to the rustling of the covers as her girlfriend shifts, trying to get comfortable. In the beginning, Nina had rolled her eyes at the constant movement - she'd even tossed a pillow at her a few times, just to get her to settle. She never thought she'd end up finding it comforting. It surprises her how easily she's taken to liking it.

Everything about Vanessa surprises her.

She wonders why that is. Why are things so very different with Vanessa, so different from the way she'd always expected love to be? Their relationship isn't romantic in the classical, Hollywood sense; no roses, no sunset walks on the beach, no long-winded letters written on a whim. But their relationship is no less for it. Those things now seem trivial, superficial - at least they do at this hour of the morning, with the reassuring warmth of her lover so close and the sleep-deprivation beginning to kick in. Maybe it's because they had been friends first, and so Nina hadn't expected these things. For once in her life, she hadn't been looking for love or romance.

Maybe, Nina thinks, she's just grown up. The thought is kind of scary, in a way, even though it's what she's always tried to be - grown up. She isn't sure she likes the idea. But when she feels a soft, sure hand on her hip and a familiar kiss on her shoulder, she decides that she doesn't care. She doesn't care why things are different, doesn't care that growing up may mean disproving every notion she's ever had of what being grown-up actually is. Because whatever else it is, it's also good. It's fabulous.

* * *

Vanessa sighs as Nina changes position for the sixth time in about as many minutes. She's fast asleep, breathing just a little louder than usual; her hair falls across one eye as she tosses her head slightly, and Vanessa can't help but laugh quietly. Nina, with her easy smiles and flippant demeanour but oh-so-petty mood changes – moods that Vanessa has to laugh at, even as she comforts her with honest sympathy. Nina is even petty and moody in sleep, something Vanessa finds both irritating and endearing. There are nights when she sleeps in the library at school, knowing that she'd disturb Nina if she returned home too late, or that Nina's tossing would wake her from the precious few hours of sleep that she allows herself. Her school timetable means that her sleeping habits are more than a little unusual.

But she always misses Nina. She lets her know the next night just how much she's missed her; with hands and lips and fingers and teeth. She drives Nina mad, and it was on those nights and those nights only that Vanessa ever takes orders._ Harder, more, faster, now_ – words that sound almost innocent in Nina's petulant voice. Her demands are never the sex-ragged pleas Vanessa might have expected, but terse, clipped – if breathless – demands.

She thinks that one day she might have to change that.

* * *

Vanessa's hands are wonderful. They are wonderful, wonderful things. Graceful, smooth, yet deft and forceful - similar to the way Vanessa skates, Nina thinks as the hand at her hip tightens, fingers curling pleasurably into her buttock. She tenses and feels Vanessa snicker against her belly, warm breath making her shiver. If she thought she could spare the energy, she might have been mildly offended by that, but every ounce of energy she has right now is focused on not shoving Vanessa back on the bed and taking control, taking her, as she usually would. Because this has been three days coming, three days without Vanessa's warmth in bed, without Vanessa's hands and mouth and – _oh_ – tongue, and Nina really isn't in the most patient of moods. Isn't the most patient of people, if she's honest, and Vanessa's ministrations, while more than welcome, are slowly – _so slowly_ – driving her mad.

Eyes closed, she feels lips against her skin, a kiss placed directly between her breasts, teasing her with all the places it could go. The kisses move slowly up her body – chest, collarbone, neck, jaw – before pulling back just far enough for Nina to see her whole face. Vanessa is grinning. Wide and happy, hair a mess from Nina's restless fingers, and she can't help but grin back, despite her irritation at the pace. She pulls Vanessa to her, grins melting into one another; kiss broken by a gasp when Vanessa pulls Nina's hips flush against her own, breasts meeting teasingly and far too briefly. Hears Vanessa snicker again, and she will _definitely_ have to get revenge for this later.

All thought of vengeance lost when Vanessa bites her collarbone lightly, one then the other, deliberate symmetry even in sex reminding her of just how well Vanessa knows her. Can't help but curve into it, and she's amazed that her self-control is still intact. When she'd promised to let Vanessa 'lead' tonight, she hadn't expected to be doing quite so little following. But Vanessa's eyes had glinted the second Nina agreed, and so she's followed orders from the beginning.

It's not like it's the worst thing ever, she admits silently.

Vanessa's hand slides down her thigh, to the underside of her knee and back to her hip, just as Nina feels the warmth of her mouth, an open kiss on her left breast; all the more shocking for the contrast to the chill of the Boston winter they've never managed to keep out of the apartment. Her hand tightens in Vanessa's dark hair as she does it again – a tongue, a nipple, a groan – and it's truly some kind of superhuman feat on someone's part that Vanessa's still in control. Before she's really begun anything, Vanessa's stopped, free hand taking the place of her mouth and Nina looks down in protest, only to be met with another grin. The happiness is still there, but it's shadowed with a passion that belies Vanessa's seemingly unaffected actions.

A little frustrated when Vanessa doesn't move, she lifts her knee and the hand at her hip falls inward, Vanessa's grin widening. Fingernails dragging just enough to make Nina's breath catch, only to leave her gasping when Vanessa finally touches her.

Yes, she thinks. Vanessa's hands are definitely wonderful.


End file.
